


Nightmare

by Squickqueen



Series: Opus Diaboli [1]
Category: Rise of the Planet of the Apes (Movies), War of the Planet of the Apes (2017)
Genre: Character Insight, Delirium, Gen, Light Angst, Translation, weird relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-17
Updated: 2017-09-17
Packaged: 2018-12-31 00:26:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12120567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Squickqueen/pseuds/Squickqueen
Summary: An exhausted Caesar struggles through the longest night of his life. What will happen in the end? Who's friend, who's foe? Fever dreams not always answer these questions clearly.





	Nightmare

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Nachtmahr](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12108006) by [Squickqueen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Squickqueen/pseuds/Squickqueen). 



> Thanks to [Talimee](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Talimee) for making my translation suck less :*

Caesar did not know if he would survive the night.

Hours had passed since the Colonel's men had tied him to the wooden cross. By now day had turned into night and Caesar had lost all sense of time. A biting wind pierced through his fur and skin, chilling his unprotected body to the bone and devouring even the last bit of warmth.

His legs had long since stopped supporting him and the entire weight of his body hung on his wrists, chafed bloody and sore from the ropes. His fingers were numb from cold and pain. The blinding glare of the searchlights caused him agony, even though he held is eyes closed.

If the frost would not kill him, then hunger and exhaustion would.

Through his fading consciousness the sounds of the nocturnal camp sounded muffled and far away. The splashing of soldiers’ boots on the soaked ground. A metal door slamming shut. The squeaking of badly oiled hinges. Howling wind. Crunching snow. And above it all, his anchor in this cacophony of horrors, the soft grunting of the imprisoned apes.

At the beginning of this night of terror, Caesar had clung to the icy reality of the camp with all his might. He feared the Nightmare at the edge of his consciousness, and the horrific dreams it would bring. By now Caesar longed for the painless numbness that unconsciousness promised.

But he still dreamed.

The image of Blue Eyes’, his son, lifeless body lying on the rough rock in their home cut as deep into Caesar’s soul, as on the first day. Ivory white snow turning blood red, as life bled out of Luca’s body, the image a thousand times more vivid in Caesar’s feverish dream. Faces of dead chimpanzees, gorillas and orangutans whirled through his mind, one as important as the other. In between, the half-rotten bodies of humans seemed to accusingly stare at him from their empty eye sockets.

Koba visited Caesar often during this nightmarish night. The disfigured bonobo promised him peace and tranquility, if he’d only join him. But Koba was long dead and what he promised was the peace of a tomb.

Caesar was not yet ready to leave.

Not as long as his people needed him. Cornelius, Lake, his clan, all those who had relied on him and were now trapped in this death camp because he had followed his personal vendetta!

The chest of the bound chimpanzee rose weakly. He could hardly suppress a harsh cough when the icy air reached his lungs. Resisting Koba’s luring voice became harder and harder. It would be so easy to give in, leaving pain, cold and exhaustion behind. To rest.

Caesar came to himself. Something had touched his face. Maybe it was snowing again? He struggled to open his eyes, but he would not succeed. Was he still in the realm of the Nightmare? In this world between sleep and wakefulness?

There it was again!

A warm, almost tender touch. It gently caressed the features of his face, brushing through the shaggy fur sticky with ice and dirt. A touch so intimate, the tormented chimpanzee leader took a deep, trembling breath. Every moment he expected the caress to turn into a brutal punch, but nothing of the sort! The hand - was it a hand? It had to be a hand! - continued to caress him.

This had to be a dream, right? There was no such thing as tenderness in this place of hate and death!

Caesar leaned into the touch and rubbed his cheek against the palm of the hand. He didn't care whether or not it sprung from one of his feverish dreams. In this moment all it meant was comfort and warmth. It took him back to the time when he and his clan had lived safely together in their village, and humans were nothing more than ghosts of a violent past.

Shreds of memories of his wife and son forced themselves upon Caesar with such force that he choked.

"Cornelia..." he rasped the name of his beloved wife.

As if his voice had broken the magic of the moment, the hand disappeared from Caesar's cheek and no matter how much he longed for its warm tenderness, it didn’t return.

Once again, icy winds whispered through his fur and made him tremble to the core.

Caesar didn't know if he would survive the night.

 

~*~

 

In his somber room, the Colonel thoughtfully raised his hand to his face.

It smelled of blood, sweat and winter. Of despair and an indomitable will.

And of ape.

Snorting the Colonel went to wash his hands.

 

~ The End ~


End file.
